Keep Running
by Little Novella
Summary: Caradoc promised Edgar Bones he'd keep Amelia safe. Even if it's from himself. Just a short scene explaining how Amelia survived the slaughter of most of her family.


He ran.

With her hand grasped firmly in his, he ran until his legs pumped battery acid and his chest heaved with ragged, painful breaths. He ran until the cold December air threatened to freeze his lungs and lock his joints. He ran, dragging her through the underbrush and into the woods where he abruptly stopped and threw the weight of himself down on top of her. He heard the air escape her lungs on a rush and considered apologizing if he wasn't so damned terrified they'd hear the soft tenor of his voice amid their searching and skin the both of them alive. He locked eyes with her, ocean blue meeting the shades of twilight. He had kissed her two days ago; he hadn't had time since then. He craved her lips, missed the warmth of her body beneath his broken hands, the smell of her wildflower tresses that he wished fervently to bury his nose in and forget it all.

Carefully, he raised his head above the ridgeline, dark orbs scanning the forest floor aided only by the moonlight. What he saw made him sick. The last thing anyone could contest about Voldemort was the loyalty his beloved Death Eaters felt for him. The Dark Wizard knew exactly how to flush out those who would oppose him and his legion would not stop just because the bastard had been defeated. Not a hundred paces from where they lay, four ghastly figures ambled about. Caradoc recognized them immediately. The mangled, dead-eyed forms of the late Atticus and Violet Bones were the most decomposed. Violet hardly had any flesh left on her form at all, causing her to crawl on all fours like an animal stalking its prey. The shortest of the group had been Romilda Bones at one point in time. Now, her belly laid torn open as she shambled across the ground on legs made of sinew and bone. Her once shining black hair fell dull and limp down her back in thin strings. Beside her was Edgar, his face and body mutilated by what the Death Eaters had done to him. "BLOOD TRAITOR" had been carved deeply upon his bare chest in bold letters that still revealed the black blood that once poured from the wound. All of his fingers had been broken as evidenced by the gnarled club hanging from each of his arms, and his throat had been cut to produce the guttural choking of the Inferius he had become. There was no doubt in Caradoc's mind that the whole family had been tortured with magic and killed by muggle means; there was just something the devils found pleasing about bloodshed.

"Ed?" Caradoc squeezed his eyes closed tightly when he heard Amelia's shaking voice. He had failed her. He never wanted her to see this, but the horror had frozen him in place. He hadn't noticed when she shimmied out from beneath him to see what had made his face turn pale with dread and fear and sickness. But now she saw it too, and it set her entire, delicate being into wracking sobs. The Inferi had spotted them, lifeless limbs jerking and twisting gruesomely as they made their way toward their targets. There was no doubt about it, now. Voldemort had wanted the Bones family eradicated. He wanted them to suffer in unimaginable ways.

Taking her hand back in his, Caradoc yanked Amelia away from the scene. He led her through the darkness as fast as he could. His ankle twisted on the uneven ground, but still he did not stop. He heard no footsteps behind them, saw no traces of another being, but still he ran. And then his legs gave out and he went sprawling to the forest floor with Amelia in tow. After a few deep breaths, he willed himself to move. On shaking hands and knees, he crawled to where she sat huddled with her knees drawn up to her chest. They were both covered in cuts and bruises and dirt and blood, but fresh tears had worn a track down Amelia's cheeks. He brushed them away, only serving to smudge more soil across her soft features. His brows furrowed, deep regret showing plainly in his eyes. If he hadn't run with her, as Ed had pleaded with him to do, she would have been dead like the rest of them. If he hadn't run with her, maybe Ed would still be alive.

"I'm so sorry, Amelia." His voice cracked, but no wetness fell from his eyes. He was too dehydrated to produce tears, too exhausted to weep for his fallen family. His aching hands reached for her again and found the softness of her cheeks. He pulled her to him, felt his lips brush against hers, then pulled away to gaze into her eyes. She was devastated, heartbroken, but a fire was lit behind her eyes. Merlin help those who had wronged her.

It all happened in a heartbeat. He had been sitting before her, reveling in the tiny reprieve from their narrow escapes, and then he was back on the ground with a searing pain in his neck and a good 18 stone on his chest. Amelia had regained her feet and battled the thing, rushing to his side only after she'd destroyed it. He could hardly make out her face and barely heard her voice save for one word: _Werewolf_.

He was a dead man.

"Amelia." He was calm, serene even as his life-force spilled out of him. "I love you." She was getting harder to see, harder to hear, but he liked to think he could hear her whisper back in affirmation of her heart. A painful smile graced his lips. "Keep runnin'."

Everything faded to black.


End file.
